Friday, October 15, 2010

my heaven

Carlos Nakai is playing in my ears right now, and I'm feeling slushy. Music, certain music, leaves me feeling so pliable that I could be a puddle on the floor while listening to it. That's how I'm feeling right now. My friend introduced me to this, and I remember being at his house after spending the most delicious night with him, wearing his clothes to lounge in and stretched out on his couch while he went to the kitchen for our coffee. His t-shirt was a short dress on me, and I cinched his pj pants quite a bit so they would stay up. He put the speakers on the back of the couch adjusting them to either side of my head, and the flute and drums lulled me. He brought my cup of coffee already altered with my cream and stevia and nestled in beside me. There was never, or has been yet, another moment of such undiluted peace. When I think of perfection, I remember that moment. When I feel utter serenity, it is from the experience of that moment.

Tranquility... the best word I can use to describe my time with him.

Last summer when I began doing energy work again, Tammy had asked me what one word best describes what people get from my sessions, and I said peace. That's why I wanted to do sessions so much. I wanted to be in that peace. I wanted to live in that peace, and the only way I knew how to get it so quickly, to surround myself in it so deliberately was to do sessions. A dear friend and colleague had told me when I first started doing this work that the sessions were only for my ability to get into that energetic space. The energy didn't come to me to do sessions, but to embody that peace, that home-feeling. And now, that's what has happened. I embody that energy without doing sessions. I feel it instantly. I wrap myself in it, and am it. I now feel it going from my heart to the person I'm thinking about or the people around me. It's the most astonishing thing.

One of the major transitions it has caused in my life is that I cannot do life like I used to. I listen to people who live the corporate American way, and I can't fathom their way of life or their way of thinking. They spit out beliefs that they've been taught. Their thinking is so finite, and rigid. I look at them. I listen to their words, and the energy I feel just grows and radiates between us. I don't know if they feel it at all, but it is overwhelmingly beautiful and peaceful to me. I can hear their distinct different ways of life, their insistence that they must have a retirement account, medical benefits, work overtime, bust their humps, and be so very, very grateful after putting in about 100 hours a week for their paycheck because after all, where would they be without it?

Sweet jesus did I do the same thing at one time! There was no way I could possibly see the world than through insurance claims, medical exam forms, patient files, unemployment insurance tax, payroll, bills, bills, and more bills... mortgages, business loans, car loans, school loans... the lists of what to do, the lists that never got completed, the lists that just got longer, the lists that kept me from being, the lists that were my gods... I used to have retirement accounts that I believed in so much that I funded them before giving to me. They were my saints I prayed to -- keep growing and be there when I need you. I remember those big insurance payments that came in the mail that I would deposit in those ever-growing bank accounts. They must've been the gods I worshiped because I thought about them a lot. I relied on them too too much. I insisted on their being my security. I was guaranteed a life of leisure if I kept at it, depositing those funds in those banks, those stocks, those portfolios... Those were my tickets to my dreams, baby. I bought that story hook, line, and sinker. I bought it until there was nothing left of me to buy for.

I gave it all up and walked away. After 32 years with one person, I moved to another town and started over. And what I've learned is that I wasn't done walking away from that which didn't serve me anymore. Everything is energy, and those things from that relationship carried that energy I no longer wanted in my life, so I kept giving it away and leaving it behind, and then walking forward unencumbered. That's when all the old shit really rose to the surface. I didn't have anything to cover it up with. Suddenly my old worn-out beliefs reared their ugly, ugly heads. Dammit, right when I thought I was in the clear too...

So, the month or so that Tammy and I have been here in New Mexico I have been going through so much transformations, as has Tammy, but I'm only speaking for me here. The transitions have been so dramatic it's as if I awake an entirely new person every morning. I feel as if I need to introduce myself to Tammy every morning when we sit at the dining room table with our coffee and laptops. First, though I have to reacquaint myself with me. The night trips, wherever it is I go, have become incredibly adventurous, and the me that awakes is truly in a foreign country. I must relearn the language, the habits, the way of life here, because my "here" has transformed. My "here" is more and more like what I had imagined heaven to be when I was a little girl in my school uniform sitting in front of nuns. Not their heaven, but mine.

Simplicity is another word I've embraced since redoing me. I find I have more energy without taking care of what I used to own. I rely solely on my Source, knowing full well that everything I desire is mine. There is such peace in that knowingness. And when I desire peace first and foremost, it's mine for the basking in whenever I so choose.